


to lose and to find

by Afaviva



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Kidnapping, M/M, Psychological Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-19 01:42:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7339435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Afaviva/pseuds/Afaviva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is something wrong with Lydia. And there is something wrong with the weather. Yet everyone but Stiles seems unconcerned. Until he goes missing.</p><p>Written for Sciles Big Bang 2016.</p>
            </blockquote>





	to lose and to find

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Sciles Big Bang 2016.  
> A hugest thank you to my artist and beta ufohnoparty. Without her help this fic would never have happened.  
> Her reading of the fic is wonderful, [give it a listen](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7350841)!

*

The air was filled with water. It was so thick and humid, one could hardly breathe. She liked it this way. This was the only way she could get out of that damned polluted river and finally breathe in the fresh air. Her nostrils quivered as she inhaled deeply.  
“For the last time, I am sure I didn’t ask for the delivery. I didn’t even place the order,” Lydia was on the phone to the most annoying online shop manager ever and she was starting to lose her patience. She walked right up to the dark figure in front of her and almost bumped into it. She gave a start and clutched her umbrella tighter. She shoved her phone into her pocket even though the manager was still talking.  
“Sorry. Didn’t see you,” Lydia told the figure. But the shape was standing there. “I’ll just go around you really quickly,” Lydia said as she walked past the figure. It wasn’t late but because of the ceaseless rain it was so dark it could just as well be midnight. Lydia wasn’t a particularly fearful type, couldn’t be really, not with friends like hers. But there was something about dark silent figures that unnerved her.  
Just as she passed the figure, she felt tightness in her chest and lightness in her head. She brought her phone to her ear, but the man on the other side was gone and the phone’s battery was dead. She looked at her cellphone and shrugged her shoulders. 

1

“Maybe you’re overthinking this,” said Scott as they entered the school.  
“Do you really think this is ordinary weather for California?” Stiles lowered the hood of his hoodie. It was completely soaked.  
“Of course, I don’t,” Scott crossed his eyes and watched a raindrop fall off his nose. “Climate change?” Scott shrugged. “Global warming?”  
Stiles rolled his eyes.  
“I _know_ there’s something wrong with this rain, okay? And I don’t like it.”  
They headed to their lockers. It had been raining non-stop all week. Stiles had accumulated a ridiculous amount of information about meteorological conditions and how they related to supernatural beings, but he still wasn’t sure he had found what he was looking for.  
“I’ve looked it up actually. It could actually be a sign of an upcoming Apocalypse, but it lacks... you know, scope. It’s only been raining. But there needs to be hail and storms and hurrica—“ Stiles stopped because Scott was staring at him.  
“Do you want us to have Apocalypse?”  
“Just thinking out loud,” Stiles said and gave his friend a huge grin. “By the way, do you think there’s something off about Lydia?” he asked suddenly.  
“What do you mean?” asked Scott.  
“Ever since she had the cold, she’s been a little… _odd_ ,” said Stiles.  
“I haven’t noticed anything,” said Scott.  
“She looks weird,” said Stiles.  
“Dude, seriously?”  
“Trust me, I know. I’ve been watching her for years. I can see when something’s off.”  
“Did you ask her about it?” Scott asked seriously.  
“Of course not. If she knew there was something wrong, she would’ve told us. But she hasn’t, which means she either doesn’t know or doesn’t want to talk about it.”  
“Or it means she is fine,” Scott pointed out.  
“Nah. I know there’s something wrong going on here.”  
Scott knew Stiles might be right. He was paranoid at times, but more often than not he was right in his paranoia.  
“Okay. I’m going to watch Lydia and try to see if something’s off. You say you can see it. If I can see it too, then we’ll talk,” he said. “Deal?”  
“Deal,” said Stiles.  
“But if I don’t, then you drop the subject.”  
“Deal,” said Stiles just as the bell started to ring.  


2

There was an orchestra in his head. A very loud orchestra of extremely bad trombone players. Stiles waited for them to stop. When they didn’t, he tried to open his eyes. Apparently, there were arrows in his eyes, because they hurt like hell, so he closed them again. He could do without seeing for the time being. Seeing was overrated anyway; there were other ways of finding out where he was. Smelling, for example. There were no arrows in his nose, which was good. But he could smell only dampness and rot, which was not so good. He wouldn’t be surprised if he found himself in a dirty swamp, judging by the smell of it. But he was dry and the ground under him was firm. He touched the floor. It was definitely concrete. Hard, dirty, dusty. So, he was lying on a concrete floor in a place with a god-awful smell. That was something. He couldn’t remember how he had gotten there. In fact, he could remember very little about the time before his waking up in this place. He had been to school, but it seemed to be quite a long time ago. He had been to Lydia’s because she hadn’t come to school that day. He just wanted to make sure she was alright. And that was all he could remember. So it seemed he would have to open his eyes and actually have a look around.  
He tentatively opened an eye, then the other. The pain had subsided a little bit. But he saw nothing. For a moment, he panicked that he had lost his eyesight. All the other senses were fine, but he was partial to his eyesight. But then he got it – there was no light in the room. No light at all. He couldn’t even make out how big the room was or if it was a room at all. He saw a dim line of light at the far end of what he assumed was the room. That was probably where the door was. He would have to get up and go there. Check if he could open the door. If it was a door.  
He raised his head and immediately decided not to do it again any time soon. He was not going to get up until the freaking orchestra stopped with its hellish marches. He closed his eyes again and drifted off without meaning to.  
When he woke up, there was someone in the room.  
“Wake up, sleepyhead. It’s not like you are going to school, but everyone needs a healthy sleep routine.”  
The voice was familiar. The voice was the one he knew very well. So well he recognized her as soon as she uttered the first syllable.  
“Lydia?” Stiles asked not daring to open his eyes just yet.  
“You can call me that.”  
Stiles needed to see her, so he opened his eyes. There was now light in the room. Not too bright, but enough to make out what was going on. Lydia was standing in front of him with a plate in her hand. Only it wasn’t Lydia. It was _something_ that was wearing Lydia’s face. Yet she looked so normal. Stiles tried to get up, but couldn’t. He looked at his handcuffed hands. _Shit_. Apparently, his feet were also chained together.  
“Sorry about that,” Lydia said. “I brought you food,” she showed him the plate. “Eat. You’ll need your strength.”  
“What the _hell_?” Stiles struggled against the chains.  
“Don’t move too much. It’ll only exhaust you,” Lydia placed the plate on the floor in front of him.  
“Where are we?” asked Stiles, still tugging at his handcuffs.  
Lydia said nothing.  
“Nice job pretending to be Lydia,” Stiles said. “Almost fooled me.”  
“How do you know I’m pretending?” Lydia bent down and looked into his eyes. “How do you know I’m not Lydia? Do you know it? For sure?”  
The eyes were so lovely, so sad and brave at the same time; she looked just like Lydia. But he knew Lydia. And it wasn’t her.  
“Who are you?” Stiles asked.  
“It’s not very polite to ask people you know who they are.”  
“ _What_. Are. You?” Stiles asked again. He was trying to remember what he had found on monsters that thrived in rainy weather. He knew that some vile thing or another was going to appear. He should have done more research.  
“I brought you food. Eat your breakfast and stop being so tedious. You know, maybe if you weren’t so nosey, you wouldn’t have ended up here.” Lydia moved the plate a little closer to him with her foot.  
Stiles wanted to ask her other questions, to make her talk so that he could find out what she was or where she was keeping him, but she left without saying a word. She probably knew what he was trying to do.  
He looked around him. There was nothing particular about the place. It was a small warehouse or a garage. Absolutely empty, dry and dusty. But the air reeked of dampness. They were probably near a river or a lake.  
Stiles’ mind was racing. He needed to make a plan how to get rid of the handcuffs and how to get out. But there was nothing he could use as a picklock, and his brain was still hurting. He would have to wait for the thing wearing Lydia to come again and try to talk his way out of it.  
He looked at the plate before him. There was a bacon sandwich on it. It seemed tasty, but Stiles wasn’t going to eat it. He didn’t remember how he had gotten the orchestra in his head but he was pretty sure he had been drugged. The food would have to wait, too.  


***  
It came back in the evening. Stiles assumed it was evening, because judging by the grumbling of his stomach, lunch time had come and passed. The sandwich was still lying on the floor, and in front of him, was becoming more and more appealing with every passing minute.  
“You haven’t had breakfast. That’s not very nice. I bet you are hungry now. But. Since you didn’t have your breakfast you can’t really have dinner, can you?” Lydia was holding another plate in her hand.  
_I can_ , Stiles wanted to say, but refrained from humiliating himself.  
“No dinner for you. That’s not good, Stiles. You must have breakfast and dinner. Or you will grow weak. And what’s the good of that?” she paused, then spoke again.  
“You know what.” Lydia pretended to think for a moment, tilting her head to the side a little. It was so like real Lydia, Stiles felt his heart sink. “You can have the food if you can reach it. Just like that. I’ll leave the plate here.” She put the plate with another sandwich some distance away from the first plate. Then she took the first plate away. “And a bottle of tasty fresh water for you too.” She placed a bottle of water behind the plate. “Reach them and they are yours.”  
As soon as she put the bottle in front of him, Stiles realized just how thirsty he was. He needed the water. He was dying from thirst.  
Lydia looked at him, gave a little laugh and went away with the stale sandwich in her hand.  
“And don’t make me deprive you of dinner again. That’s really not good for you.”  
There was something strange about the way Lydia was moving. It seemed that her hips were too big for her. As if they had grown larger and she hadn’t quite gotten used to them yet. Stiles tried to innumerate all the differences between real Lydia and the thing that was occupying her body to try to figure out what it could be, but there was only one thought in his head. He was _thirsty_. He needed that water.  
He tried to reach it and failed. The handcuffs were linked to the chains on his feet and something was keeping him from moving away from the wall. He tried to stretch out his legs and push the bottle towards himself with his feet. But the chains didn’t allow for that. He tried to move, to change position but it didn’t work. The desirable was so close, just an arm’s length away, but he couldn’t get it.  


3

“You don’t know where he is.” Scott couldn’t believe his ears. Stiles hadn’t been to school and he wasn’t replying to his texts. And his father didn’t know where he was. Sheriff Stilinski looked perplexed.  
“He texted me yesterday, said that he was staying over at Lydia’s. She’s been sick, right?” the sheriff asked.  
“And he didn’t come back in the morning?” asked Scott.  
“No. You saw him at school, didn’t you?” the sheriff’s gaze was intense.  
“No. And he isn’t answering his phone,” said Scott, looking at the screen of his phone. He dialed Lydia’s number. “Lydia’s missing too.”  
“We need to call Malia then.”  
“We can’t. She’s gone.”  
Sheriff Stilinski wanted to say something, but changed his mind.  
“We need to start searching for Stiles now,” he said instead.  
Scott couldn’t help but think that something bad had happened to Stiles. He wouldn’t just disappear of his own accord. He might have found out something about the rain and had gone to explore. But he wouldn’t have gone alone, he would have taken Scott with him. Only he didn’t really believe him. Maybe he had gotten tired of people not believing him and went about finding the proof on his own? It was Scott’s fault. He should have listened; he should have paid attention or at least given him the benefit of the doubt. But he was enjoying the normal life so much. Just for this long they had peace and he did not want to give it all up on Stiles’ suspicion. And now Stiles was gone. And he had no idea what to do about it.  


***  
Time passed slowly in the complete silence of the warehouse. There was no way of measuring it anyway, no watch, no phone. Stiles was fighting drowsiness and he was losing. He had been too anxious to sleep at night. He kept thinking about the ways of getting out, but he couldn’t find any. He also couldn’t understand what the thing wanted from him. It didn’t do anything to him, which was not how monsters usually worked. She might be luring Scott into a trap using him as bait. Only there seemed to be no use in the trap. He was sure Scott would notice his absence as soon as he didn’t come to school. But either he didn’t, or he just didn’t care. _What if he just doesn’t care?_  
“Dinner’s ready,” it sing-songed from the doorway. “Stop daydreaming and come back to reality. There’s a tasty snack waiting for you. The world is a brighter, nicer place when you aren’t hungry. Just a lovely place to be in.”  
“What are you?” asked Stiles. He needed to make her talk.  
“We did have this conversation, remember? I’m Lydia. Lydia Martin, nice to meet you,” she stretched out her hand just enough to show her intention, but not close enough for him to grab it.  
“Stop it. Stop pretending you are her. You are not,” Stiles moved forward, trying to get hold of her hand, but the chains pulled him back.  
“Of course I am. You’ll be surprised how much of her is here,” Lydia pointed to her head. “You’d be shocked if you knew how many nasty things she is prepared to do to the world. Oh, you wouldn’t believe it,” she smiled.  
“I don’t,” said Stiles.  
“Yes, that’s why it was so easy to get you here. You will never believe she is the guilty party. That’s not a wise thing to do. Remember how no one believed you were killing people?” she was standing so close to him, he could bring her down if it was for the handcuffs.  
“No one could know,” he said.  
“She could. I know because I am her.”  
She was looking at him with an earnest look on her face. He was tempted to believe her. Lydia couldn’t be doing this. But why didn’t she ask them to help her? Why did Lydia not tell them there was something bothering her?  
“Can’t believe your little friend’s just gone insane? But how much time can a young lady spend in a loony bin and still maintain her mental health? Sooner or later you start to see things. Want to do things,” she was staring at something that wasn’t there. It made Stiles uneasy.  
“Anyway,” it looked at Stiles again. “I’ll leave you to your tasty dinner. I hope you will be well-rested and well…fed tomorrow.” Lydia put a plate and a bottle of water on the floor.  
“Tomorrow? What’s tomorrow?” he asked.  
“Nothing. I just want you to be healthy and happy. That’s all,” she shrugged her shoulders.  
“What’s tomorrow?” asked Stiles again. But Lydia didn’t answer.  
He was tempted to leave the dinner be. But he couldn’t. He needed the food. He moved the plate closer to himself and took the sandwich. Then he took a big bite, so big that little bits of meat and bread started to fall onto the floor. He picked them up and put them into his mouth. He didn’t care if they were dirty. He just couldn’t care about that anymore. He was eating ravenously, licking his fingers and licking the plate clean. He drank all the water in big gulps. There never was enough water.  
That night he slept peacefully. He was too drained to think about anything. He was not getting closer to getting out of there; he was not even getting closer to finding out what Lydia was. If it was the end, that was it. It had been nice knowing everyone. It had been nice being friends with Scott. It had been nice being with Scott. Seeing him every day of his life. Watching him smile when he was happy and frown when he was serious. Yes, it definitely had been very lovely knowing Scott.  


4

Sleeping seemed to be the only thing Stiles had been doing lately. He was feeling weak. He didn’t know why, and it was bothering him. Maybe it was natural, since he hadn’t gotten to his feet for who knows how many days. But maybe it wasn’t. Maybe there was something wrong with him. Maybe the thing possessing Lydia had been doing something to him.  
He tried to remember what he had found on supernatural things that lived in the water, but he couldn’t remember much. All he could come up with were sea dragons, something even he couldn’t seriously believe in. He should have memorized the encyclopedia of the supernatural by heart. He should have done it long ago.  
“He’s not coming for you,” Lydia’s voice broke his train of thought. He hadn’t noticed her come in. “Scott’s not coming for you. No one’s coming for you,” Lydia saw Stiles flinch. “Did you really think they would? Oh, Stiles, you’re a big boy and you still believe in fairy tales. Does your life seem like a fairy tale? No, it doesn’t. Why do you think it ever will? I’ve got news for you. There’re no happy endings in the real world. Everything ends in death and misery. That’s it. Remember that, Stiles.”  
She was sitting right in front of him, carefully studying his face as she was talking to him. It was hard seeing Lydia’s lovely eyes darken and look at him with an evil gleam.  
“Lydia,” he called.  
“There is no Lydia in the house,” Lydia’s lips smiled. She cocked her head to one side. “Hello, is Lydia at home?” She pretended to be having a phone. “No Lydia? Too bad. I guess I’ll have to be her instead. For the time being. Or maybe forever. Who knows?” She shrugged theatrically.  
The thing inside Lydia was gloating. It had him under its control and it was reveling in its power. Why hadn’t he found out what it was earlier? Of all the things Stiles was cursing himself for, the fact that he had failed to identify the beast was the bitterest. He had no idea what it was doing to Lydia, how strong and powerful it was. Maybe there was no Lydia anymore. Maybe it had killed her and now there was only the empty shell of her body. But there was still hope. If Stiles wasn’t hoping that somewhere down there Lydia was still alive, it would be much easier. He would have conjured up some plan or another to get it killed and get out. But if killing the monster meant killing Lydia he wasn’t going to do it. He had learned to move on from his crush on her, but she was a dear friend. He would have never sacrificed her to save himself. He wouldn’t sacrifice anyone to save himself.  
The thing was studying his face.  
“You think it’s your fault I managed to occupy such a lovely body,” it said and patted Lydia’s hips.  
“I should probably thank you for not doing proper research. It is such a nice body. The best I’ve worn so far. She is beautiful, isn’t she? Look at her lips,” it moved Lydia’s face closer to Stiles. He moved away and banged his head on the wall. “Just look into her lovely, lovely eyes. And the boobs. Oh, they are delicious. And don’t get me started on the legs. Why is she not modeling? She definitely should. Have been.”  
Stiles couldn’t bear to hear it describing Lydia as if she were a piece of meat. It was revolting. He had always fancied Lydia. He had worshipped her and he had wanted her. Of course, he had. But he had never thought of her that way, had never separated her beautiful personality from her gorgeous body. That’s why he had been the first to notice the change. He saw it the minute she entered the school building. But it was too late already.  
“You’re so… delicious. You have such an expressive face, anyone ever told you that? I can see every,” it planted a finger on his nose, “little,” the finger moved to the bridge of his nose, “emotion,” the forehead, “on your face.” It cupped his face. “You are so cute all angsty and upset. I could watch you for hours. And I probably would. Why not indulge myself while I can, right?” It shrugged Lydia’s shoulders.  
It was looking into his eyes as if trying to read his mind. He was half sure that it could. But it had stopped talking and was now only staring at him. Then it shrugged shoulders and left the room, suddenly losing interest.  
Stiles tried not to think about its words. But he had nothing else to do. All he had to do was to think about what Scott was doing. He should know that he was missing by now. And if he did, he would come for him. For him and for Lydia. He had to come, he always did. Of course, he would come. He would. There was no doubt about that.  
Stiles just didn’t understand why Scott wasn’t there yet. Maybe he had decided to leave him. Maybe he thought it had been Stiles’ own fault getting caught, so he didn’t need to save him. No, Scott wouldn’t do that. Stiles couldn’t allow himself to believe that there was no one coming for him. But there just wasn’t. They should have been there by now. Scott should have smelled his scent and found him quickly. But he hadn’t. How often could he drop everything and just go save everyone? He should stop at some point. Maybe this was the point.  


***  
“If you keep skipping your classes, you may get kicked out,” Sheriff Stilinski said. But Scott saw he was glad Scott was with him at the station. He could use all the help he could get.  
“Scott. Er… I don’t really know how you… do it,” Sheriff Stilinski motioned at his table.  
Scott saw Stiles’ t-shirt there. Scott knew what he was trying to say.  
“Yeah. Right. It’s just like with dogs really.” Scott smiled, trying to make the situation less awkward. He took the t-shirt and stood there. The sheriff was looking expectantly at him.  
The T-shirt smelled of Stiles. He could recognize the scent anywhere. But it was not in the air.  
“So?” said the sheriff.  
“I think I need to go out,” said Scott.  
But there was no scent outside either.  
“Do you feel anything?” asked the sheriff.  
“No, not at the moment,” Scott said. He didn’t feel like lying, but he did. There was no ‘moment’ when he would be able to smell Stiles if he hadn’t already. He didn’t want to give the sheriff false hope, but he didn’t want to strip him of any either.  
“Maybe you just need to go places, and well, smell things. Maybe he’s just too far from here.” Sheriff Stilinski was clutching at straws, Scott could see it.  
“Yeah, definitely. I’ll go and see.” Scott shoved Stiles’ t-shirt into his backpack and got on his bike.  
“I’ll tell you if I find anything.”  
The sheriff gave him a little wave.  
It was the rain. It had stripped the ground of all scents. Scott hadn’t paid much attention to it before. But it didn’t matter. They would find Stiles, not as easily as they could if he could actually smell him, but they would find him. He just needed to find out how.  


5

Stiles wanted to get home. He wanted to be home, to see his dad, to eat normal food, to do his homework even. And he wanted to see Scott, to see his face, the dimples on his cheeks when he smiled, to hear his voice and to look into his eyes. He had never fully realized how much of a presence Scott had always had in his life. They had been through so much together, it seemed it would never change. He needed Scott in his life just like he needed air. Stiles wished he had understood it earlier. Maybe then he would have changed something when there was still time. Maybe he wouldn’t have ended up on the floor in this freaking warehouse with a psycho-monster on the loose. Maybe they would have left Beacon Hills and gone on a road trip across the country. And when so far away they could forget about all that there was to forget. Only he knew they wouldn’t.  
“Stiles!  
Stiles stopped brooding when he heard Lydia’s cautious call. It wasn’t the usual conceited voice of the possessed Lydia. It almost seemed like real Lydia.  He saw her open the door and run up to him on her tiptoes.  
“Stiles,” Lydia whispered. “Where are we?”  
He looked at her and saw a scared look in her eyes. She was frightened, he could see it.  
“Stiles, it’s me. Lydia. It’s really me. I’ve been fighting this thing for so long. I can’t defeat it on my own, but we can.” There was a universe of pain in her look and she needed him to help her. It was her, it was Lydia looking for his help. He couldn’t refuse her.  
“We need to get out. I need you to help me.” She was so close to him now.  
“Yes. Yes, Lydia, anything.”  
She was looking at him with all the pain in the world glistening in her eyes. He could do anything for her. They were going to defeat this thing and they were going to get out.  
“I need you… I need you to stop being such a fool. Oh god, I can’t believe you fell for this act. ‘It’s me, help me.’ That’s enough for you to believe anything? Can’t believe you’ve lived your whole life in this town.” Lydia rolled her eyes and got up. She gave a short laugh. “Pathetic,” she said. “I told you there’s no Lydia in here,” she pointed to her head. “There’s no Lydia here. There’s no Scott coming for you. No sheriff. Don’t you think he’s had enough of you and your pathetic problems? Of course, he has. He doesn’t need you, Stiles. No one does. And I feel for you, I really do. If anything, I know that feeling of not being wanted better than anyone,” she really looked like she was sympathizing with him, feeling his pain. “So, just put up with it.”  
She gave him a sad smile, and he wanted to punch her in the face. If only he had enough energy to do anything.  


***  
The search was not going well. There were not enough people. There wasn’t enough time. It had been almost a week, and they still had no results. Everyone was helping the sheriff. But it didn’t seem enough. They had combed the town. They had looked everywhere, and they were running out of places to look.  
Sheriff Stilinski feared the worst. It was Beacon Hills, but it could be something non-supernatural. It could be a human crime. Stiles could have been taken away from the town. They could have done anything. He had always been wary of the supernatural, but he could trust Scott and his friends. They always won. With humans, he couldn’t be so sure of an easy win.  


***  
Scott was looking through Stiles’ prints out. He had found so much information, Scott couldn’t get through it all in several days. He had read up on Japanese and Chinese mythology, found out way too much about Caribbean mythology, and he was moving into Persian mythology. He hadn’t realized how much he had relied on his wolf senses in finding solutions to his problems. If only he could smell Stiles’ scent, he would have found him long ago. But all he could smell was damp air.  
He needed a break. He looked at a slice of pizza in the box. He couldn’t eat. He was hungry, but he couldn’t waste time on food. He needed to find Stiles. He couldn’t lose him. Not again. Not ever. They were going to go to the same college. They were going to be roommates for all the college years. And then they were going… he didn’t know what they were going to do after that. He hadn’t planned that far ahead. But he was sure that Stiles had, and he would be happy to be part of his plan. He didn’t believe that they could realize Stiles’ ‘vision’, not with the whole pack. But sometimes he thought that he could do without others, if there was Stiles by his side. And his mom, of course. All the other people were important, for sure. He cherished his friends, but if it came down to it, there were only two truly important people in his life. And one of them was missing at the moment.  
“Honey, you do need to eat.”  
Scott was so caught up in his thoughts, he hadn’t heard Melissa approach him.  
“You need your strength to look for him.”  
“I know. I just…” Scott didn’t know what to say.  
“Look,” Scott’s mom sat down beside him. “I know it’s difficult. I know it’s very painful. But you will find him. You will do everything you can, and you will get results.”  
“What if the results are not satisfactory?”  
He could see his mom flinch at his unspoken words.  
“If you lose hope, you’ll get no result,” she said.  
Scott looked at the pile of paper before him. He needed to speed up his search. Hope was the only thing that kept him going. Hope to see Stiles again, to make him laugh, to share everything with him.  


6

Stiles was missing his dad, his friends, the real Lydia, the one with a kind smile and clever eyes. The one he would probably always be a little in love with. She had been the best. She still was. Provided she was still there somewhere. He wasn’t sure of it anymore. But he missed Scott the most. He could picture Scott’s smile in his mind, his warm and a little husky voice. He could almost smell him. He wanted him to be there, by his side. Smile at him, talk to him. Somehow Stiles was sure that if Scott were with him, even incapacitated like himself, it would still feel a thousand times better. He needed to see him. To hug him and to ask him what had taken him so long. To look into his eyes and to kiss him. Stiles stopped this train of thought. They were not together. They had never wanted to be together. Well, probably Stiles did at one point or another. But he wasn’t going to tell him that. Let alone do something like that. That was so fucked up. He was chained to a wall in an abandoned warehouse, gradually losing all his strength. That was not the time to be thinking about kissing his best friend. Stiles put his head in his hands.  
“Knock, knock,” said Lydia into the open door. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I? I hope not.”  
Stiles wanted to say that she was, but he kept his silence.  
“Do you want something to eat? I have a sandwich here…. yeah. I know how you like sandwiches, so I thought maybe I should make you a sandwich. Only, of course, I don’t make them. I buy them. It’s not a good thing for the beauty of a girl’s hands to cook.”  
She was moving slowly towards Stiles with a plate in her hand that she wasn’t going to give him yet.  
“Do you often make sandwiches? I bet you do… I bet that’s the only thing that you and your father eat.”  
“Don’t drag my father into it,” Stiles couldn’t keep from speaking.  
“Into what?” asked Lydia, surprised.  
“Into your filthy mouth,” snapped Stiles.  
“Oh, but I can drag anything I want into it, Stiles. Anything. And you are going to put up with it, because you are here, alone, and no one is coming for you,” Lydia moved her face closer to his and was now smelling his neck. “No one is going to save you, Stiles. I know you have hopes, I know somewhere deep down you are sure that Scott is doing everything he can to save you right now, but that is not true. That is simply and plainly and quite painfully, actually, not what is happening right now.” She moved her face even closer looking into his eyes. He tried not to look, but couldn’t. She licked his neck then closed her eyes and pretended to savor the taste. “Mm. Your fear is so tasty.”  


***  
Scott tried to fall asleep, but sleep wasn’t coming. It didn’t care how much he needed it. It had decided not to show up. Sleep pretty much did whatever the hell it wanted, and it didn’t want to be with Scott McCall that night. Scott got up, turned on the light and went to the table again. He picked up one of the files and started reading. But he couldn’t concentrate on what he was reading. He started thinking what he would do when he saw Stiles again. How he would do all he could not to have this nightmare repeated. He pictured how he would find him. How he would run up to him and hug him like he had never hugged him before. And he would say how much he had missed him, how scared he was that they would never find him. How he stayed awake at night thinking about him. And after a while they would forget about this whole mess. And one day Scott would tell him that he loved him and he would smile and kiss him, and… Scott was about to check himself at the thought, but he was too sleepy, so he put down his head on the table and drifted off into the unconsciousness.  


7

It wasn’t expecting them, Scott could tell. As they lowered themselves into the sewers, foul-smelling water splashing and rats scattering in all directions, it continued to sleep peacefully on the blanket on the damp floor. Lydia’s hair was in disarray, her face dirty, but she looked so peaceful in her sleep, Scott hesitated to act. He squeezed the vial in his hand tighter; he couldn’t lose a drop of the antidote that Deaton had made. When he looked at Sheriff Stilinski, he could see the sheriff was probably thinking the same thing, not quite believing his own eyes. Then the sheriff looked at Scott and gave a short nod. Scott plunged forward.  
The thing in Lydia, using her banshee abilities, started shrieking so loudly when Scott shoved the antidote into her mouth that he was afraid he would lose all hearing. She was struggling in his arms, trying to push him away, but his grip was firm. He wasn’t going to let go of her before he was sure Lydia was safe.  
“Drag her out!” shouted Sheriff Stilinski, holding his taser up at the ready. He wasn’t going to use his gun on Lydia. Scott grabbed Lydia tighter and started to move in the direction of the ladder. The rungs were slimy and, as he placed one of his hands on them, Lydia shrieked again, jerking her head wildly. Scott felt her head collide with his nose, almost forcing him to let go in a burst of pain. But then he heard the sound of electric discharge and Lydia’s body shuddered, went limp. Scott looked at the sheriff, who shrugged apologetically.  
As soon as they climbed out of the sewers, Scott could smell Stiles. The rain had finally stopped and could catch the scent. Admittedly, he had been afraid he had forgotten the scent of his best friend.  
He gave Lydia’s body to the sheriff and ran off in the direction his nose was telling him to.

***  
Scott rushed to Stiles. There he was, in the farthest corner of the room, chained and hurt. Scott could see a bite on the side on Stiles’ neck with dried blood around it but not actively bleeding. Stiles was unconscious. _I’m too late_ , he thought.  
Scott listened for the heartbeat. Faint, but it was there, definitely there. Stiles was alive, pale, drained of blood, but alive.  
“Stiles,” he called.  
Stiles made no reply.  
“Stiles!” Scott cupped Stiles’ face in his hands. Stiles’ eyelashes fluttered for a second, but his eyes remained closed.  
“Stiles!” Scott called again. He needed to call an ambulance urgently, but he just couldn’t let go. If he never saw him conscious again, he wouldn’t know how to go on. Thinking everything was lost, Scott saw clearly for the first time in his life what he should have seen a long time ago.  
“Stiles… I love you,” Scott murmured, but Stiles was silent.  
“How is he?” Scott didn’t hear Sheriff Stilinski approach them.  
“Not sure. He’s not responsive,” he said. The sheriff was already on the phone to the hospital.  


8

Stiles made a surprisingly quick recovery. Lydia had to stay in the hospital, but he had already returned home. He was still a bit unsure on his feet but strong enough not to need a hospital bed.  
Scott was lingering in the doorway, unsure whether to come in or get out. He hadn’t expected to find Stiles engrossed in something on his laptop screen. He could definitely remember his mom telling Stiles not to strain his eyes unless there was a _serious_ reason for it. He thought of reminding Stiles about that, but he was sure Stiles had found a good, serious reason for getting up. He always did. In Beacon Hills, any day was a good enough reason to start research.  
“Come on in, Scotty,” Stiles waved him in.  
“Hi,” Scott said. “Isn’t it a bit too early for reading off the screen?”  
“Nah, I’m as good as new,” Stiles beamed.  
“I saw Lydia,” said Scott.  
“How is she?” asked Stiles.  
“She says she’s fine. But I don’t really believe her.”  
“Do you think she’ll get better soon?”  
“I hope so. Do you…do you want to maybe visit her some time soon?”  
“Yeah. Yes, of course, I do. I was just thinking that if your mom sees me in the hospital, she would make me stay there. I don’t really want to anger your mother.” Stiles closed his laptop.  
“Yeah, she will definitely be against you using a computer,” Scott said.  
“Hey!”  
Scott seemed not to know what to do with himself. “It was difficult to see Lydia, at first. I mean, what she did...It wasn’t her, of course, but try telling that to yourself, when you saw things with your own eyes. But she’s good. She was so great fighting the demon from the inside. I don’t think it would have been half as easy to beat it if she wasn’t helping us.”  
“I know. She is great,” Stiles said. He motioned for Scott to sit on his bed. “By the way, I’ve found so much info on this _Nhang_ thing. Did you know that the word actually means ‘crocodile’? And it’s not a vampire, it’s technically a dragon. A _dragon_ , dude.”  
Scott smiled.  
“We only found her because of your extensive research.” He admitted.  
“But she’s an _Armenian_ spirit. Are all the evil forces of the world moving to Beacon Hills now?” Stiles asked incredulously.  
“Yeah. It seems so,” Scott grinned.  
For Stiles, it was so easy to fall into their usual friendly banter, just like old times. As if nothing had changed, as if there had never been a desperate need to be with Scott. They could just go on being friends, as always. Honestly, Stiles dreaded such a future.  
“Do you remember what happened when we saved you?” asked Scott suddenly.  
“No, not really. I vaguely remember you calling out to me, but I was so tired and dizzy I passed out.” Stiles said. “Why? Did I miss something important?”  
“Well, nothing really, just…” Scott fell silent.  
“Was it something that I said? Because just so you know, I wasn’t really myself then,” Stiles smirked.  
“No, no. It’s something that _I_ said,” Scott said with a shy expression on his face.  
“You are starting to freak me out. I don’t remember you saying anything wrong. So if you want to take your words back, I’m cool with that.”  
Scott seemed to be contemplating his words. Then he started talking without looking at Stiles.  
“It was so difficult, all that time you were missing. When we didn’t know where you were. How you were. It was torture.”  
Stiles wanted to say something, but the look on Scott’s face made him stop. Scott continued talking.  
“I realized something during those days. I think it had been there for a long time. I’d just been too blind to see. And…”  
Scott looked agonized. Stiles wanted to put him out of his misery. He could make a joke or start talking about all the things he had realized in those days too, like how much he appreciated the comfort of a bed, or how grand it was that he would have to go to school again, how marvelous the homemade food smelled even if it was half-burned in the process of preparation. But he kept silent. He wanted to hear what Scott had to say.  
Scott felt Stiles’ heartbeat quicken, like Stiles was nervous. That was probably what rejection sounded like.  
“I just want to say.” Scott drew in a breath. “I… I love you. And I thought I needed to tell you. I’d never want to lose you as a friend, but if that makes you uncomfortable...”  
Scott became painfully aware of his hands and he had no idea what to do with them or where they should go. So he started to fumble with the fabric of the blanket on Stiles’ bed. He heard Stiles’ heart beat faster. Clearly, Stiles was looking for words to tell him to fuck off.  
“I just hope…” Scott started but he didn’t get to finish the sentence because Stiles’ lips were on his own.  
“Wanted…” a touch of the lips, “so much…” another, “needed…” Stiles was trying to form a coherent sentence while simultaneously kissing Scott. “Had no idea…”  
Scott pulled away from him and looked into Stiles’ brown eyes.  
“Dude. I can’t understand a word.” He smiled and placed a hand on Stiles’ face, trying to calm down his nerves.  
“Doesn’t matter,” Stiles smiled back and leaned in again.  
The kiss was warm, languid and tentative. Scott felt a hand on his neck and breathed in deeply. Stiles smelled of _Stiles_ and it was the best scent in the world.

 

The end

**[to lose and to find read by ufohnoparty](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7350841)**

**Author's Note:**

> just a little bit about the monster: "The Nhang (from the Persian word for "crocodile") was a river-dwelling serpent-monster with shape shifting powers, often connected to the more conventional Armenian dragons. The creature could lure a man by transforming into a woman. These spirits use their victims for their lust and drink their blood afterwards." adapted from wikipedia.org and pantheon.org

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [to lose and to find](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7350841) by [why_didnt_i_get_any_soup](https://archiveofourown.org/users/why_didnt_i_get_any_soup/pseuds/why_didnt_i_get_any_soup)




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